


A Fallen Exterminator

by DeaconBrews



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Afterlife, Angel & Demon Interactions, Bathing/Washing, Being Lost, Comfort, Confusion, Gen, Healing, Hell, Misunderstandings, Moral Dilemmas, Morally Ambiguous Character, Redemption, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeaconBrews/pseuds/DeaconBrews
Summary: After being gravely injured and losing its mask during a cleanse, an exterminator angel awakens to find itself in unfamiliar surroundings, in the company of strange beings. It's not back in Heaven, and it knows for certain that it can't still be in Hell, the people here are far too kind to be demons.  What has happened to it?
Comments: 17
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you okay?”

Spear-bearer #382 of Legion MMXVIII was immediately confused.

It did not know where it was. It could not remember how it had gotten here. It did not recognize the delicate, feminine voice asking the question. Furthermore, it was not used to being asked such questions. Those who stood above it in The Hierarchy would regularly ask it how many souls it had erased, about the sufficiency of its supplies, or inquire about its position in the battle formation. Those who stood beside it in The Hierarchy would sometimes ask if it had the strength to continue fighting, or if it could cover a flank or a bottleneck by itself. The few who stood below it would occasionally ask if it required maintenance. It knew the correct answers to such questions, the ones that would cause it the least amount of pain and maximize its chances of surviving another deployment. It did not know if it was ‘okay’. No one ever asked it that. It wasn’t the sort of thing an angel was asked after it had donned the war mask.

It focused its fogged-up mind, searching for the correct answer.

It did not feel ‘okay’. Its head ached. Its arms felt leaden. Its wings were in agony. All over, it felt weak and faint. None of these things were particularly unusual for it to feel, especially in the closing hours of such a taxing event as the annual cleansing of Hell. In this particular instance, however, it felt everything with an especially harsh clarity. It did not know if it should admit that; revealing weakness might prompt whoever was querying it to abandon it.

What had happened to it?

It tried to reach through the blackness occupying most of its head to recover something, anything, to explain the present situation, but it was interrupted.

“CHARLIE! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM IT!”

A second voice, feminine like the first, called out in furious panic. The first replied with the same softness it had spoken with before.

“It’s unarmed. It can’t hurt us.”

“Ehh I don’t know about that. I can thinka plenty of ways to put someone down that don’t call for anything more than two hands and a can-do attitude.”

A third voice, this one masculine and with an accent it didn’t recognize, joined in as well, just as the second voice cried out again.

“IT’S AN EXTERMINATOR FOR FUCK’S SAKE.”

“LOOK at it. It can hardly move.”

Both of the statements were true, though it failed to properly understand the relevance of either.

The haze still draining from its mind, drop by drop, it forced itself to open its eyes, but saw only a watery blur. It realized it had been weeping this entire time. Like the pain and exhaustion, this was not terribly unusual either. It had seen and partaken in so much violence that tears often flowed unbidden and unnoticed. Something was different this time though. It could feel the lightest of breezes drying them as they rolled over its face.

The realization hit it like a lightning bolt.

Its mask.

Its mask was gone.

It could remember now.

There had been too many of them. All around. The line of battle had been stretched thinner and thinner until it finally snapped. They had scattered and engaged or disengaged at random, each struggling merely to keep themselves from being totally engulfed. It had been separated from the rest of its unit in the bloody, panicked frenzy. It had fled before an implacable tide of demons, flying when it could without risk, running when it had to. It had drawn too close to a terrifyingly large infernal edifice. A demon, one of the largest it had ever seen, had gotten the drop on it, looming up out of the darkness. It had been wielding a seraphic weapon, for all #382 knew, one of its own, left behind in the supreme madness of the previous year’s cleanse.

The monstrosity had stabbed out, viciously and with incredible speed, right at its face. Then, there had been darkness.

It must have been erased then.

Even if the demon’s attack hadn’t killed it, with a broken mask, Hell’s corrosive atmosphere would surely have finished the job in short order. The sickening, soul-rendering miasma that sustained the shapeless horrors that dwelled Down Below was poison of the worst sort to an angel. It would have succumbed in an instant without protection. After all this time, it was finally dead.

But then…why was it still conscious?  
Why could it still think?  
Why could it still feel?

The exterminator stirred in confusion, in spite of the ache permeating its body.

“Sshhh…”

“It’s alright, it’s alright.”

It felt a hand gently press a cloth to its face. It stopped its aimless shifting and closed its eyes, allowing whoever it was to wipe away its tears. It began to think, to try to make sense of its situation.

Was this some sort of an afterlife?

Had it been lied to?

No. That couldn’t be. They wouldn’t lie to it. Perhaps they’d simply been mistaken. After all, no one really knew for sure what happened to an angel’s soul when they were struck down. Maybe there was something more on the other side than the empty void that underlay Creation.

The hand finished dabbing at #382’s face. It opened its eyes again and beheld a warm, red sky. It shifted its gaze over to get a look at the one who had been so kindly attending to it. In spite of the ill-understood and seemingly grave circumstances it found itself in, it smiled. Whatever it was looking at, she was…cute. Very cute. She did not appear to be an angel, like it was, but she didn’t seem to be a mortal soul either.

She most certainly couldn’t be a demon, one of those vague terrors that plagued its dreams even when the next cleanse was months away.

Not with those great, welcoming eyes, framed by an apple-shaped row of lashes. Or those infinitely rosy cheeks, as if she’d just laughed herself hoarse. Or that waterfall of golden hair cascading down from her head. And that little black dot at the tip of her nose, giving her an almost puppy-like appeal. Or that bow-tie! How charmingly old fashioned.

Maybe this really was some sort of an afterlife, to be home to such a lovely creature. Maybe giving itself to the legions had won it some sort of reward now that it was finally dead?

#382 managed to summon its strength and reached up to caress the ivory-skinned woman’s cheek. It attempted to draw enough breath through its ragged throat to utter some thanks to her, but suddenly felt the cold touch of metal against its neck.

“Make another move and I promise you it’ll be your last.”

The other feminine voice spoke again, terse and threatening.

Though it was difficult to pull its gaze away from the strange but beautiful being that had been kneeling over it until now, the blade demanded attention. The one holding it at spear-point was startlingly familiar yet alien in appearance. Soft-grey of skin and hair, much like it was, but her garb had flashes of pink here and there that better matched their warmly-hued surroundings. Despite her somewhat angelic appearance, she too lacked a mask, though she still bore a cross over one of her eyes, like so many of its compatriots did. A fellow exterminator perhaps? It did not recognize her; she must have arrived here long before it.

“Guys…I really don’t think its trying to hurt me…”

“Well I really don’t think dis gamble has a payout worth the risk, toots.”

#382 looked away from the strange pseudo-angel glaring at it from behind her weapon toward the source of the third voice as it spoke again. It was pleasantly surprised. The voice belonged to an exceptionally tall androgyne. Slender in shape, pink and white in countenance, and swathed in striped clothing of the same colors. Replete with warm-looking fluff that promised to envelope anything that touched it with its softness. Possessed of a second set of arms, and as it focused it sensed yet another set hidden away. He(?) would be quite lovely indeed to behold if not for the grim, frightened look on his face, and the hefty firearm held in his second set of hands.

The exterminator forced itself to take a deep breath.

The act was painful.

Terribly painful, but necessary. It had to speak. It had to say something. Anything. Anything at all to let whoever these beings were know that it was still functional. If it did nothing, it knew from ages of experience that it would be dismissed as a lost cause and abandoned. It parted its lips and forced out a word.

“Hello.”

All three of those who surrounded it were plainly startled by the sound of its voice. The rosy-cheeked woman gasped, and nearly jumped upright. She jostled it rather badly in doing so, and pain shot through its entire body, originating in its back. Something was very wrong with its wings.

The pink bow-festooned possible exterminator spat out an unknown word. A curse. It did not know which of the mortal languages she was speaking, one it hadn’t yet had occasion to learn, but her tone of voice made it clear that she was NOT pleased to hear it speak. The tip of the spear dug deeper into its neck, an errant twitch away from drawing blood.

The androgyne likewise shouted an invective. One that it did recognize, and was not particularly fond of, being among the most vulgar of such terms his particular language had managed to produce. The muzzle of the firearm quickly came level with its head. It reeked; the tang of well-tended metal blended with the heavy aroma of smoke.

Perhaps it should have kept its mouth shut after all. It was not sure precisely what sort of infraction it had committed, its memory of the time between the demon striking it and the present moment being mostly empty, but the situation was a familiar enough one. It was facing a reprimand for what it had done, or perhaps failed to do. Its heart sunk. It hurt so badly already, it didn’t know how it would overcome whatever punishment it had managed to earn.

“CALM DOWN!”

The rosy cheeked woman spoke again, with a chastising tone. She waved the other two off. They hesitated, but obeyed after a moment of tension. #382 felt a touch of relief as the blade left its throat and the barrel of the firearm again pointed down toward the ground. Its savior looked back down at it.

“Hello.”

The fear melted away as it again looked into her eyes. There was mercy there, and patience. It wasn’t sure what to say to her, it still didn’t know the answer to her question. Fortunately she seemed to have lost interest in the subject of if it was ‘okay’ or not.

“Can…”

She looked it over again.

“Can you get up?”

This was a question to which it knew the correct answer. The answer was yes. Always, ALWAYS, yes. If one were ever asked such a question and did not answer in the affirmative, or failed to answer at all, they would be left behind, fodder to line the stomachs of Hell’s rapacious inhabitants. Therefore, it nodded, ignoring the unpleasant sensation of dried blood crackling off of its neck as it did so. The rosy-cheeked woman hesitated for a moment, biting down on her lip as she continued to scrutinize it and cast glances at the other two beings present.

“O…kay then.”

She reached down and rested her hand on its side.

“L-let me help you.”

She took one of its hands in hers, and slid the other from its side underneath its back. The jolt of pain that shot through its wings at her touch made it want to cry out, but it restrained itself. It was crucial not to show weakness now. Once it had been righted, she guided one of its arms over her shoulder.

“Well then…”

#382 looked down at the woman supporting it. She looked terribly uncomfortable. It tried to take as much of its weight as it could off of her. She was a bit on the small side, she really shouldn’t have to bear such a burden, and it was humbled by her willingness to do so.

“...would you like to come in?”

The woman drew its attention to a large structure off to the side. A sign of suitably grand proportions rendered in characters it couldn’t read capped it. It looked around, as far as it could without hurting itself. The crimson and maroon-hued structure, with golden light falling from its many windows, looked at least as inviting as anything else in the jumbled metropolis that surrounded it. It nodded in acquiescence.

“Aw fer fuck’s sake! We’re just gonna invite it in?!”

The androgyne spoke again. Horror and incredulity mixed with anger.

“Yaknow if I wanted my throat slit, I’d just do it myself!”

He was upset, and it knew that it was the reason, though it wasn’t sure what it had done. Whatever trespass it had committed, it would have to apologize and make amends when it had recovered enough to do so. The thought of having angered such a pretty creature was very unappealing.

“Do you expect me to just leave them here?”

There was a pause, then the pseudo-exterminator spoke again, meekly.

“Charlie, this thing is dangerous…”

Another pause, and it felt tension grow within ‘Charlie’, as she seemed to be called.

“You know I can’t do that.”

She again moved to guide it toward the structure, while the others again raised their voices in protest.

“Wait.”

#382 coaxed another word from its throat, and the trio quieted. It pried itself away from the rosy-cheeked woman and turned around.

There.

The spot where it had previously been lying wasn’t difficult to pick out. The pool of blood staining the ground marked it clearly. Near the pool’s edge, only a few steps away, it saw the shards of its shattered mask. It wasn’t sure where it was, or where its comrades were, or what its objective, if it even had one anymore, was. But ages and ages of drilling and conditioning had cemented in its mind the thought that such a crucial piece of equipment should never be abandoned, broken or not. If it were still bound to The Hierarchy, such laxity would undoubtedly earn it a terrible punishment.

Managing, just barely, to act under its own strength, it trudged back toward the blood-stained spot it had lain in a moment ago. Slowly, carefully, it gathered up the pieces of its ruined mask. They were many, but if it hooked its arm just so, it could hold them all with one hand, leaving the other free to once again drape over Charlie. Not a moment too soon either, its efforts had left it feeling light-headed and sick, and the small woman’s merciful support was more welcome than ever.

“We can go now.”

She nodded and helped it toward the doors of the building. The lovely androgyne and the fierce exterminator-like woman flanked them. They pushed the doors aside and led it in.

“Well then…”

“...welcome to the Happy Hotel…”

“...I suppose…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spear-bearer #382 is feeling better, enough so that it can ask questions about where it is.

Spear-bearer #382 of Legion MMXVIII lay on its side in bed to keep the pressure off of its wings. Although its condition had improved somewhat, they still hurt terribly, and it was not yet in a state where it could examine them thoroughly and determine precisely why they felt so…wrong. Even worse than the rest of it.

The exterminator sighed. Charlie had not yet come to visit it today. Ordinarily, she would stop by around this time to check on it and ask after its well-being. It didn’t yet have the wherewithal to hold an extended conversation, with most of its words coming out gurgled and fluid, but her visits were the one thing it presently had that it could look forward to. It enjoyed seeing her. The others, ‘Vaggie’ and ‘Angel Dust’, were a welcome sight too, although they rather tended to keep their distance.

It rolled over beneath its sheets and once again contemplated the strangeness of their names. Charlie was an ordinary enough name, but the other two…

‘Vaggie’ simply felt uncomfortable to say, even if it wasn’t sure why. ‘Angel Dust’ though, was thoroughly confusing. The being to whom the name belonged was plainly not an angel, and yet his name was Angel. It had found it rather humorous when first learning his name, but had restrained itself from smiling or laughing, lest it insult the creature. Perhaps the word ‘angel’ meant something different to the population of this place.

Its idle ruminations were interrupted by movement on the far side of the door, followed by a rapid rattle of staccato knocks. A voice it didn’t recognize called out from the hall.

“Housekeeping~”

The door creaked open and it caught a brief glimpse of a broad golden orb before a blur of pink and white came ricocheting in. The blur flew about the room, swatting at everything it could reach with a featherduster and emitting the occasional cry of “nope!”. For brief moments, the blur would stop, and the orb would shine at it once again, only for it to begin dancing about the place a moment after. Once the blur had circuited the room twice, it shot over to the edge of its bed and came to an abrupt halt.

The being was the smallest it had seen yet. A feminine thing with dark, slender limbs peaking out from a billowing pink skirt and red-splashed blouse. The golden orb it had caught flashes of was her vast, single eye, set in a fair face framed by a shock of bright red hair. The eye darted over it as a smile pulled upon her cheeks.

“Hi~”

It returned the smile as best it could, charmed by her roiling energy as much as her appearance.

“I’m Niffty~”

Its smile broadened. She was indeed ‘nifty’. A perfect name for the flashy little bundle of joy bouncing at its bedside.

“Hello, Niffty.”

She opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted.

“ _Niffty_.”

Charlie stood in the doorway, her brow furrowed with displeasure.

“I asked you not to come in here, especially not alone.”

Niffty looked rather vexed for a brief moment before whirling around to face the taller woman, wringing her hands as she did so.

“Oooohhhh I just couldn’t help myself! I haven’t made my rounds here in so long, the dust bunnies will take over if we’re not careful!”

A finger stabbed out in #382’s direction.

“And just LOOK at those linens, they’re awful! We need to change them out!”

It examined itself and its bed. The assorted debris that had been shedding from its scored and cracked armor had indeed left the bedclothes stained and smeared, possibly beyond the point where they could be cleaned with any real efficacy. Charlie had been bringing a wet cloth with her to wipe away the worst of the mess when she visited, but that was merely a stop-gap solution to the mess its mere presence was making.

“That’s going to have to wait, they’re in no condition to be moving around right now.”

Niffty began shifting her modest weight from foot to delicate foot in distress

“But-”

“We have to just live with it, I’m sorry.”

#382 forced down as deep a breath as it dared.

“She’s right.”

The both of them turned to face it.

“These need to be replaced. I’ve all but ruined them.”

It placed its hand on a bed-post for support and forced itself upright. It slid out of bed and to the side, one of the sheets dragging along with it and ending up on the floor. It looked to Charlie.

“Let her attend to her work. No need to delay it for my sake.”

Charlie’s eyes flicked back and forth between it and Niffty’s embarrassed fidgeting.

“Are you sure?”

It nodded.

“Yes.”

Niffty darted forward and the bed was stripped in an instant. She gave it one last look as she passed Charlie on her way back into the hall, and was gone. Charlie watched her leave before turning back to it and stepping into the room. Vaggie rounded the corner and followed her in. Spear held at the ready, as per usual. Both Vaggie and Angel Dust were always armed when they accompanied Charlie on her visits, and they tended to stand in the corner and keep watch rather than come any closer to speak to it. What and whoever Charlie was, she certainly seemed to be very important to demand the constant presence of an armed escort.

Charlie cleared her throat.

“Good morning.”

It returned the greeting. It was indeed a good morning. In spite of the ache permeating its body, it no longer felt sick or faint. It flexed slightly, clenching and unclenching its fists, shifting its weight from toe to heel. Rising and getting the blood flowing again was good. It was hardly the picture of vigor, but its strength was returning.

“Well, its…nice to see you up and about…”

She trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say, and its gaze wandered over to Vaggie. It ceased its movements and tried to stand up as straight as it could. It still wasn’t sure if the grey woman was an exterminator or not. She seemed too small to be a warrior angel, yet too big to be a cherub, and she had no halo nor any trace of wings that it could detect. Otherwise though, she rather looked the part. The carefully maintained assortment of blades and points she was equipped with certainly lent credence to the thought, and the scowl she often wore combined with her generally hard, mirthless disposition immediately brought its superiors to mind. It felt instinctively that it had better not provoke her.

It tried to meet her gaze, but she did not return the effort. She seemed more concerned with scrutinizing the rest of it. The one eye that was not concealed by a cross panned over its form as it continued to stand at attention, but not in the curious way Niffty’s had. It was more…suspicious. She was on edge, for some reason. If she was indeed of the same stripe as those it usually took orders from, she was probably searching for some imperfection, any imperfection, in its stance that she could pounce on as grounds for disciplinary action.

Charlie cleared her throat again and it returned its attention to her.

“You can, uh, relax. If you like.”

It allowed itself to, just a little. If nothing else, both Vaggie and Angel Dust seemed to defer to Charlie, and she was of a decidedly gentle temperament. She wouldn’t hurt it, even if it were found lacking, it was sure.

As it shifted in posture, it heard something clatter against the ground at its feet. Both Charlie and Vaggie’s eyes followed the object as it fell, and it followed suit. A scale of its armor had fallen off. Looking over the rest of itself once again, it was finally able to fully realize what a sorry state it was in. Coated in an almost-black crust all over, and what parts of the plate weren’t encrusted were still terribly dented, scratched, and stained. No wonder the little one had been so upset about the state of its bedclothes.

“A bath might be good for you if you can stand it.”

Verily. Now that it had regained the means to function at the barest minimum, it needed to go about maintaining itself. The sloth of lying in bed day after day would not do. Charlie slowly ushered it toward a door set in the wall to their side. It led to a washroom. A washtub much larger than the sort that one typically saw in the barracks, matched by a shower stall that might better be described as a shower hall. Low cabinets for supplies here and there and a commode tucked away in the corner.

“Sorry we couldn’t get you anything nicer, by the way.”

The statement gave it pause as Charlie began to draw a bath. Why should she apologize when its accommodations were far nicer than anything it had ever found in The Halls Of The Legions? The standards of luxury in this place would appear to be rather high.

“Do you need help?”

Charlie queried it as steaming water poured into the washtub. It quickly decided that some assistance would be welcome, and answered in the affirmative.

Leaving Charlie to attend to whatever else the bath required, it began to pull away its armor. It began with the sockets embedded in its neck that held the bevor, and by extension the rest of the body plates in place, so as to be done with it sooner. Even after its extensive term of service, it still didn’t like the way the armor felt as it latched onto or screwed out of the various connection points embedded in its body. Even the act of removing it still somehow felt invasive, and no more so on any part of it than the neck and chest armor. Best to be done with it quickly.

It winced a bit as the curaiss and pauldrons and whatall fell, inexorably peeling away from still-fresh injuries. The mail coating its arms and legs was easier to remove, but only by a little. The smaller but numerous connections dotting its limbs made the act less of a single point in its body being violated by the machinery and more of a widespread pinprickle of unpleasantness.

As it turned back to Charlie, now ready to be cleaned, it found her wide-eyed with shock. At first it worried that it had offended by tossing its violence-tainted equipment onto what had previously been a perfectly clean floor, but then it caught a glimpse of movement out the corner of its eye. It turned and found itself staring into a mirror.

A corpse stared back at it.

Besides the scabbed-over injuries that had ruptured its flesh, it was covered in discolored splotches where heavy blows had been dealt and crumpled its armor rather than piercing it. Part of one its horns had been broken off, and its halo was very dim. Its wings were in tatters, hardly more than bone and burnt flesh. It would never fly again.

It wasn’t sure what to think now that it understood the extent of the damage it had suffered. This was something it knew could happen to it in its duties. Likely to happen. Practically guaranteed even.

But even so.

Well.

It was presently a terrible thing to behold, and that reality weighed upon it somewhat.

But to dwell too heavily on such things would be vain, and there were more practical matters to address now. First among them, the fact that Charlie was holding a towel out to it whilst keeping her gaze firmly on the floor. It accepted the piece of cloth and used it to provide itself with a degree of modesty as it lowered itself into the water. It was a shock at first, stinging on its open wounds, but as it adjusted the warmth was a balm on its many bruises. It kept the towel in place with one hand and wiped itself down with the soap it was given with the other. Charlie attended to the spots it couldn’t reach comfortably, careful to avoid touching what was left of its wings once she recognized the involuntary shudder that ran through it whenever she drew too close to them.

Vaggie watched over them both from her place in the corner of the room the entire time. She stood almost entirely still until another pronouncement of “housekeeping” was heard. #382 turned slightly at the sound of the door in the adjacent room unlatching again and the following patter of tiny feet upon the floor. It briefly saw Niffty’s substantial eye darting over it, before Vaggie swiveled in place and gestured with her hand.

“Niffty.”  
“The bed. You’re here for the bed.”

The little figure squeaked in recognition and disappeared, leaving only the sounds of ruffling fabric in her wake.

Once the water surrounding the exterminator had been thoroughly polluted by the process of rendering its own form clean, Charlie helped it rise back out of the washtub. She offered it a fresh towel, and it dried itself. When it had done so, it realized it had no means of re-dressing itself. Its armor was still a mess, and badly in need of a technician’s attention as well, and it had arrived in this place with no other clothing to speak of. It began to glance about, hoping for some direction from the others. Vaggie was the first to realize its distress.

“Oh…”  
“You don’t have anything to wear…”

Charlie grimaced.

“Oh shit. I didn’t think of that.”

It winced at the sound of such a gentle creature issuing a curse, but kept quiet. It was none of its business how she spoke. Instead it watched as Vaggie crossed the room to one of the cabinets, eye still on it, and retrieved a colorful robe embroidered with blocky characters similar to the ones it had seen on the sign that crowned the building it was in.

“Here.”

#382 hesitated. The garment the silver-and-pink woman was offering it seemed so much finer than the coarse fabric it wore on the rare occasions it was out of uniform. It wasn’t sure if it was worthy of the gift.

“Well?”

Vaggie brandished the robe impatiently.

“Vaggie, that’s not going to fit.”

Charlie interjected.

“What?”  
“Oh, right.”

Before it could voice any of its thoughts on the matter, Vaggie had produced a knife and put two slashes through the back of the robe. She held it out again.

“Here, your...wings should fit through there fine.”

It nodded in agreement, took the robe, and dressed itself. Its heart fluttered; these people were generous to the point of impracticality. It would never have asked them to cut apart one of their own garments merely to accommodate it.

“Well then,”

Charlie began again.

“Now that we’re all nice and clean, I think its time for breakfast.”  
“Or umm…”

Charlie glanced at the timepiece on her wrist.

“...I guess more like brunch, technically.”

She looked back at it from the miniature clockface.

“I’m sorry we’re so late. We had…business to take care of.”

It shook its head.

“No apology is needed, ma’am.”

Although it was a few hours later in the day than it would typically be visited, #382 was still being fed with far greater frequency than it was generally accustomed to. Two or three meals a day, and it was always assured that it could have more if it desired. It rarely did. The food these beings subsisted on was consistently richer, warmer, and more heavily seasoned than the nutrient-dense pastes it had previously taken through its feeding tube. It had been quite a shock the first time it felt hot fat and vibrant spices and squishy, airy bread crossing its palate. A “toasted ham and cheese” she’d called it. She seemed to regard it as unimpressive, and had been surprised and concerned when it almost spat the food out from the unexpected jolt of such intense flavors and textures.

Charlie gave it a confused look at being addressed as “ma’am”, but did not comment as she slipped back into the hall and returned pushing a cart with several dishes upon it. A shallow bowl full of dark liquid, puffing fragrant steam into the air, and a smaller one full of greens glistening under a coating of oil and vinegar.

“Our finest soup and salad today~”

Charlie announced what the fare was with what seemed to be a bit of humor for some reason. It accepted the dishes as they were placed in front of it and began to eat as usual, while Charlie found herself a seat and watched it for a moment before speaking again.

“Well, you seem to be recovering quickly enough.”

“With thanks to all of your efforts.”

Charlie smiled, while Vaggie remained stoic.

“We’re…we’re happy to help.”  
“Very much so.”

She knitted her fingers in her lap and began to tap her thumbs together.

“Is there umm, anything else we can help you with?”

Its chewing slowed to a halt, and it swallowed. It had a great many questions, but most of them could wait until it was in a better state. At the moment, it would be content with clarifying one thing.

“Where are we? What is this place?”  
“You called it the Happy Hotel…”

Charlie brought a hand to her chin as she spoke.

“Ah, right. Well, the sign actually says ‘Hazbin Hotel’ right now, but I’m trying to get it changed back.”

It had to take her at her word there, the script the inhabitants of this place wrote in was still quite alien to it, and it hadn’t yet had an opportunity to put much effort into learning what phonemes or ideas the symbols represented.

“But it’s called The Happy Hotel. It’s sort of a, well, a rehab clinic.”  
“Our idea is to provide people with some sort of shelter, some place that they can safely try to redeem themselves…”

She peered more closely at it as she continued.

“...and when they do, go on up to Heaven.”

She leaned in.

“Does that sound like it will work to you?”

“Of course.”

She seemed surprised by its abrupt concurrence.

“...are you sure?”

It wasn’t, but it was hopeful. Perhaps even excited. It understood now. This was indeed an afterlife it found itself in. More importantly, it was a place of redemption. Purgatory had been lost to them, lost long ago, but this place seemed to offer the same hope: that a damaged soul could be mended, and ascend to The Kingdom, rather than be warped into a mindless agent of terror by Hell.

And…

…and…

It stopped pushing its spoon about as it further processed the information it had been given. Vaggie and Angel Dust, and that new one, Niffty, all seemed to defer to Charlie. Charlie was the shepherd of this endeavor. This endeavor to save souls.

It suddenly felt rather embarrassed, to be hunched over a dish of soup in the presence of this woman. This was at least as awe-inspiring as being in the presence of an archangel. Charlie was a savior. A protector of souls. Just the opposite of what it was. It ought to be on its knees.

Things began to add up as it continued to mull over the news. It was dead. Yet it had not ceased to be. It was in some sort of afterlife, contrary to what it had long believed would be its fate when it met its end. This afterlife was a place of redemption, or penance. It had been shown mercy and kindness, things it had been forced to rid itself of in order to fulfill its duties. Even if the cleanses were necessary to prevent Hell from spilling over into the other realms, to unmake a soul with such finality as an exterminator did was still a terrible, terrible thing, and it had tainted itself with such an act many times over. That had to be why it was here, rather than in any other afterlife it could have been sent to. To make amends for having been a destroyer for such a long time.

It looked to Charlie with a new reverence and tried to think of something to say to her, but she was already rising from her seat. Of course, she was obviously very busy with the monumental task she had before her, and her visit to it was surely just one of many things she had to attend to today. She walked to the doorway, Vaggie right at her heels. They both cast a final glance toward it as they left.

“Well, that’s nice to hear.”  
“We won’t pin you down any longer.”  
“Have a nice day.”

It nodded as they left. Once the doorlatch clicked, it turned its attention back to its meal. It swished the spoon through the broth, back and forth, in thought for a while, and applied its new knowledge to its circumstances.

It had previously feared itself bereft of both comrades and objectives. That was not the case. Its comrades were the other inhabitants of this place of redemption, and its objective was to redeem itself for the ill it had done serving as the point of the Eternal Crusade’s sword. With that in mind, the first steps forward were clear.

It scooped up another spoonful and brought the food to its mouth.

First, it had to restore itself. It would take nourishment and rest, and it would repair its equipment.

After that, it trusted that it would be given instructions on how to atone. They would come from Charlie and the others, and it would do as it was told, like it always did.

It would indeed be “okay”, it was sure now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The host of demons that inhabits the hotel struggles to decide what to do about the murderous warrior angel recuperating in their midst.

“Soooooo……what the fuck is wrong with them?”  
“They don’t act like ya’d expect an exterminator to.”  
“Are they just retarded or what?”

“Angel!”

Vaggie cut in and fixed Angel Dust with a disapproving look from across the room. Angel folded one set of his arms, planting the other on his hips, and looked back with un-disguised disdain.

“What?”  
“I’m just sayin’ what everyone is thinkin’ is all.”  
“Fuckin’ thing is acting like a toddler at their first day of preschool.”

Charlie spoke up, from her seat at the end of the bar.

“I...dammit.”  
“I really don’t know what’s up with them anymore than you do.”

She turned to face her pastel-goth lover and let a bit of worry creep into her voice.

“IT’S…”  
“It’s like they don’t even know whats going on.”  
“They act like nothing’s wrong.”  
“Like it’s just another day in the neighborhood.”

Charlie began to drum her fingers on the panel of wood in front of her with distress.

“They don’t…”  
“...that’s not how they usually act…”

She looked around the room at the varied guests of her hotel.

“They’re just, like, sitting there.”  
“Smiling at us.”  
“They SMILED at me this morning. For real. Not that creepy robot smile their masks make. They were happy to see me.”  
“I don’t know what to make of that…”  
“I…I don’t know what to do with them.”

A wet clatter rang out as Husk slapped his empty glass down on the bar and the remnant ice cubs jumbled about.

“HOWS ABOUT WE KILL THE MOTHERFUCKER BEFORE THEY BEAT US TO THE PUNCH?!”

The feline sinner slumped over the bar, propping himself up on one arm and using the other to slosh another triple dose of white-label into his glass. As soon as the caramel-brown liquor had come within an inch of the glass’s rim he slammed the bottle back down into the well with so much force that it seemed a miracle the vessel didn’t shatter, and took a long, hard drink. Then he slurred out another angry declaration.

“IN CASE YA FURGOTTEN THE FUKKEN THING IS A GODDAMN EXTERMINATOR!”  
“AN E-X-T-E-R-M-I-N-A-T-O-R”  
“ISSRIGHT THERE IN THA NAME!”  
“IT’S IN THE NAME GADDAMMIT!”  
“WHYINNA FUCK ARE WE EVEN DEBATING THIS ATALL?”

“BECAUSE WE’RE NOT MONSTERS!”

Charlie cried out a retort, her voice cracking with emotion.

“WE DON’T KILL DEFENSELESS PEOPLE!”  
“THAT’S NOT WHO WE ARE!”

The Princess of Hell took a moment to compose herself, and lowered her voice to a less intense volume.

“This is supposed to be about redemption.”  
“All of us ganging up on someone who can still barely walk doesn’t sound like its even in the same ballpark as that to me.”

“Charlie”

Vaggie interjected.

“I know its a hard thought to swallow, but THEY don’t give a damn about that.”  
“Have you seen the news?”  
”This year’s cleanse was the worst in a decade. There are whole blocks of the city that are just EMPTY now.”  
“We’re just targets to them.”

“Then…why hasn’t this one done, well, anything? They haven’t even tried to leave their room.”

The rest of the demons occupying the lobby quieted. No one could quite account for that. By every measure, the genocidal warrior angel in their midst had been perfectly peaceable. Downright docile, even.

Angel cleared his throat, and began to speak, softly and a bit nervously this time. He rapped at the side of his brow with his knuckles.

“Are we even sure they’re uh, ‘all there’ as they say?”  
“You’s two HAVE seen their face lately, right?”  
“Among otha’ things, they clearly took a pretty nasty blow to da head.”

Vaggie grimaced and looked away, while Charlie began wringing her hands.

“I-”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them.”

Niffty piped up without looking away from the olive she was swishing about in her martini.

“Not in the head at least.”  
“They just need some time to rest. They’re in a bad way, but they don’t seem…dumb or anything.”  
“I think they might be a little shy, but that’s it.”  
“If anything, what they really need is a trip to the hospital, not a head-shrinker.”

Vaggie looked the little cyclops over for a moment, pinching at the hem of her pale dress and rubbing it between her fingers in thought.

“You were alone with them for a little while.”  
“Did they try to do anything?”

Niffty’s puff of red hair bounced as she shook her head

“Nothing at all.”  
“I wasn’t really alone with them for long before you two came in.”  
“I just said hi, they said hi back.”

“Not even a hint that they were gettin’ ready ta scream DIE SINNER DIE at tha top a’ their lungs and come leapin’ after ya with a pointy object?”

The Happy Hotel’s chief maid shook her head again and took a dainty sip from her drink.

“Nope.”  
“Besides, we have their spear anyway. I put it in the closet with Miss Vaggie’s.”

Angel frowned and rolled his eyes at her annoyingly practical response to his hyperbole. Husk groaned, threw back another slug of whiskey, and blearily eyed his fellow demons.

“Fine. So whad ARE we s’posed to do about the creep?”

“Well, I finally got the room dusted and the linens washed. Really swell of them to let me do that, by the by. It was driving me bonkers.”  
“I think their bathroom is going to need a going over now though. They really made a mess.”

“Niffty, thassnot what I meant an’-”

“I THINK”

Charlie brought all eyes back to her before Husk could start up his drunken yammering again.

“That we should try to be good hosts.”  
“Prove that we’re not rotten all the way to the core.”  
“Practice what we preach.”

“What YOU preach.”  
“Later on when we’s all wakin’ up ta find ourselves hanging from the ceiling by our entrails, you’re gonna wish ya hadn’t preached so damn loud, Chuck.”

Charlie frowned at Angel Dust as he threw one pair of his hands up in the air with exasperation and pointed accusingly at her with a third.

“N̵ ̷̞̪̇̀͝O ̸̥͉̑N̶͠ S ̷̺̾E̵ ̸N̴̖͂ S̵͚͉͒͊ E̷͆ !”

Angel yelped and nearly jumped out of his thigh-highs as a shadow on the floor beside him abruptly materialized into Alastor.

“I̴ ̵ ̸T̷ ̸H̷ ̷I̵ ̶N̸ ̴K̴ ̶ ̶I̷ ̸T̸ ̶S̴ A̶̘͊ ̷̩͠ S̸ P̶̦͆ Ḽ̴͗ E ̸̣̏N̴̉ ̵̻͝D̷̜͑ I̵̟͠ Ḓ̴̈ I̵͓͝ ̵̨̓D̷͍͗ ̶E ̷̢͒Ä̴̳́ !̶͎̈”

“I TOLDJA TO STOP DOING THAT!”

The Radio Demon’s sickly-colored smile widened as the electronic crackle in his voice faded back to a gentler level. He ignored the irritated spider demon and continued.

“In fact I think I can do us one better!”  
“We’ll recruit them for our staff!”  
“I can see it now!”  
“Our brand new advertisement campaign!”

Alastor hooked an arm around Angel and waved the other broadly at an imagined billboard in the distance.

“We’ll put that halo-topped mug of their’s in all of our marketing!”  
“The Hazbin Hotel: Endorsed By Heaven Itself!”  
“Hahahahaha!”

The cervine sinner threw his head back for an exaggerated laugh at his own absurd idea. Angel didn’t seem as amused.

“Yeah right, Smiles. More like ‘The Happy Hotel: Check In NOW Or Our Pet Exterminator Will FUCKIN’ KILL YA.”

Vaggie grimaced and pinched the bridge of her aquiline nose.

“I can honestly never tell what’s sarcasm and what’s serious with you, so I’ll just make this clear right now.”  
“We’re.”  
“Not.”  
“Telling.”  
“ANYONE.”  
“About the half-dead exterminator upstairs.”  
“Comprende, shitlords?”

Charlie nodded in concurrence with her lover, tugging at strawberry-pink collar of her tux in nervous thought.

“She’s right, we REALLY don’t need anyone to know about this, okay? Promise?”  
“I don’t know how people would react if word got out, and I think its better that we don’t find out.”

Husk and Angel both rolled their eyes and glowered.

“Oh sure, its the other sheep outside that we gotta worry about, not the friggin’ wolf that’s right here in the pen with us!”

“N̶̼̜̈̈͠ Ó̶̢̗̯̩̏̇͐ T̶̮̃̽ ̶̠̕ Ṭ̶̰̤͋ͅ O̶ ̷̼̝͚̪͛͋̎Ẃ̵̛̞̠̰̜ O̸̟̜̬͎͊ R̴̅ͅ R̴̨̜̭̽̉̆͜͠ Ỵ̵̡͈̾ ̵̪͓̮̉̋͝ O̶̰̠̣̹̽ L̶̪̘̀́̓ D̶͓̊͒̎͐ ̶̛͑̌ B̶̠̤͖͑ Ö̶̫̙̘̟̀̄̌ Y̶̲͂̅!̴̛͋̆̚”

Alastor’s voice once again thickened with radio static as he shifted partway into his true demon form.

“I̴ ̵a̵s̶s̷u̸r̶e̵ ̷y̶o̷u ̵I̵ ̸c̶a̸n̴ ̶h̷an̷dl̴e̸ ǒ̷n̷̈́e an̵em̷i̵c̶̜̀ ̸͓̈́s̵͕̿i̵͙͛mp̴le̴̒t̵on̴͔̊ ̴w̴͆ͅith̵ ̶̹͌c̴̾lip̴̊p̶é̴̺ḑ̸̽ ẅ̵̫́i̷n̵͕̈́gs̶̰̓ ̷qū̶̲it̶̙̾e ̴͌h̶a̶̎n̷d̶͛ily̵̽”

“ _Al_.”

Charlie stepped forward, undaunted by the sinner’s monstrous, wendigo-like appearance.

“I want you to promise me, PROMISE me, that you won’t hurt them unless you absolutely have to. And I mean ABSOLUTELY.”

Vaggie darted up to her lover’s side, fists clenched.

“As a matter of fact, why don’t you just stay far away from them entirely?”  
“We don’t need you making this into an even bigger mess.”

The radio demon chuckled, shrugged, and adjusted his lapel.

“Very well, my dears. You are the bosses after all.”

He pivoted on his heel and strutted over to the bar, his smile counterpointed by the scowl the feline demon behind it wore.

“Herbsaint if you please, Husker! Chilled.”

Husk grumbled to himself as he put together his master’s drink. Once he’d been set up with a generous glass, he began to nurse it

Vaggie waited until he was fully occupied with his drink before she returned her attention to Charlie.

“I don’t think we really reached a consensus here.”

Charlie nodded and sighed, shoulders slumping. She reached out to embrace her lover for a brief moment to gather some strength.

“Lets…lets wait until they’re feeling better, and then maybe we can ask them what they want. Until then…let’s all just try to stay safe, right?”

Vaggie nodded after a moment’s hesitation. Privately, she was more of the same opinion as Husk than anyone else. She didn’t like the thought of having that killing machine sleeping under her roof any more than he did, maybe less so, since it was her girlfriend, her gentle, trusting girlfriend, who insisted on checking in on the awful thing every day. But she did have to admit that Charlie also had a point. It wasn’t a good look to kick someone when they were down.

For now, she’d just have to stay on her toes and keep her eye out.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an old greentext of mine.


End file.
